


Love in the Time of Hydra

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brainwashing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Minor Character Death, Propoganda, Stucky AU Big Bang 2018, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: Steve Rogers was blown out of a train car in the same attack that took Bucky's arm.  With Steve dead, Bucky took over trying to take down Hydra, eventually plunging to his apparent death to save the USA from an Hydra assault.  But when he's unfrozen 75 years later, he discovers that neither Steve nor Hydra ever died, his best friend has become the face of a terrible regime, and the rebel Avengers need his help to put the world right again.





	1. Divide

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [lili-flygirl](http://lili-flygirl.tumblr.com/) ([Art post 1](http://lili-flygirl.tumblr.com/post/183407313604/captain-hydra-for-the-2018-stucky-au-big-bang), [Art post 2](http://lili-flygirl.tumblr.com/post/183407266334/hydra-control-map-for-the-2018-stucky-au-big-bang)) and [saltyemrys](https://saltyemrys.tumblr.com/) ([Art post 1](https://saltyemrys.tumblr.com/post/183441605147/i-made-a-title-banner-for-jaune-chat-s-work-love), [Art post 2](https://saltyemrys.tumblr.com/post/183441651582/better-than-coffee-i-love-me-some-brainwashed), [Art post 3](https://saltyemrys.tumblr.com/post/183448247537/who-the-hell-is-bucky-last-piece-for) for their amazing and beautiful artwork! They were such a delight to work with!
> 
> Also much thanks to [ensignanna](https://ensignanna.tumblr.com/) for her thorough and incredibly helpful betaing of this fic!
> 
> Finally thank you to [vallisagarwaen](https://vallisagarwaen.tumblr.com/) (whom I won at [Marvel Trumps Hate](https://marveltrumpshate.tumblr.com/)) for translating the needed dialogue into proper German!

\------

Bucky pulled Steve off the floor, ears ringing from the explosion that had ripped open the side of the train car. Cold wind was whistling through with punishing force, and Bucky was having to make an effort to steady himself. It was a hell of a long way down from where they were. As Steve rose to his feet, Bucky started to feel some measure of triumph. They’d taken out Zola’s defenders, and now that cowardly, cruel little man was going to get everything that was coming to him. If they moved fast enough, maybe Bucky could get the cuffs on the man himself.

(A darker part of Bucky wanted more than that. He wanted to see Zola suffer, be as afraid as Bucky had been when strapped to the scientist’s table during his experiments. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t do that in front of Steve.)

Steve smiled back at Bucky, then looked shocked and alarmed. Bucky turned to see the Hydra goon they’d knocked down had gotten one hand on the experimental gun he’d been carrying. Bucky tried to push Steve back down, shoving into his chest with his arm. Steve had been trying to step forward at the same instant, hands wide as he tried to throw himself in front of Bucky. Captain America’s shield was just behind him, too close to the blown-open panel to grab.

The Hydra soldier fired, and a blinding blue flash blotted out Bucky’s vision. When he blinked, he saw Steve falling out of the train car, shield tumbling after him, the white star on his chest now a cratered red ruin, blood spreading across the red, white, and blue. Yelling, moving in slow motion, Bucky tried to reach out with his left arm as his right grabbed for anything to stabilize him. A cauterized, bloody stump crossed into Bucky’s vision as Steve and his shield fell the impossible height down the mountain, and was gone.

Screaming, Bucky scooped up a discarded gun from the swaying train floor and fired it into the face of the Hydra soldier, killing him instantly. Moaning from pain and loss, Bucky clutched the stump of his arm and slumped against the wall of the boxcar.

\--

The world faded in and out as the Howling Commandos brought the train to a halt. He vaguely recalled Morita patching him up as well as he could, which mostly meant making sure he didn’t bleed to death and wasn’t in too much pain. Bucky didn’t care; he would have refused the morphine if he had been in any position to talk. He remembered Gabe telling him they’d captured Zola, though the rest of the Hydra soldiers had taken poison rather than let themselves be captured. At that news, Bucky managed a nod of recognition, then any thoughts of accomplishment or revenge drained from him as he let the world fade to black.

He awoke some time later, swathed in new bandages, lying on a soft cot and separated from the rest of the world by a curtain. The antiseptic smell in the air tipped off that he was in the infirmary. The ache in his arm was still there. So was the endlessly-replaying vision of Steve tumbling through the air down a snowy gorge going on behind his eyes. That distracted him so much that he didn’t even realize that the person who had twitched his curtain aside was Howard Stark and not a doctor.

“Sergeant Barnes-.”

Bucky turned his head away.

“You shouldn’t have been able to survive that. What happened? Zola had a remote monitoring system in his car, but if you could-.”

“Steve _died!_ ” Bucky hissed, turning back to look at Howard. “I didn’t kill that Hydra bastard the first time, and he got up and Steve couldn’t get his shield up in time and he was hit and he was blasted through the hole and _died!_ ”

The heat of his glare only gave Stark the briefest of pauses. “Those Hydra weapons can _vaporize_ people completely. His was damaged from your fight, but even so, it was remarkably you made it at all.”

Bucky shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” So Steve hadn’t been vaporized. It was even worse that Bucky had had to watch him fall, his star burned away, mouth open in a scream…

“Red Skull is still out there. Zola talked, and Schmidt has some mega weapon he’s going to try to drop on American soil.”

Schmidt. He was the one behind all of this. Bucky felt the fire of anger giving him purpose again. He sat up. “I want to go. I want in.”

“I can make you a new arm,” Howard said, looking as eager and determined as Bucky. “I can make you the best damn prosthetic the world has ever seen. But we’ll have to wait for… your wound to heal a little. You’ll have to go home, Sergeant.”

“No,” Bucky said flatly. “I am not letting Schmidt get away. He’s mine.”

“All right. Let’s talk to Phillips. We’ll make sure they pay for what they did to Steve.”

\--

“Sergeant, there’s no way we can let you back in combat. You have to go home,” Phillips argued.

Bucky snorted. “Like hell I’m missing taking down Schmidt before that madman gets a chance to hurt anyone else. You need me.”

The army surgeon stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re _missing an arm_ ,” he said, as if not certain Bucky was aware of the hot pain burning where his left arm had been.

“So Mr. Stark can make me a new one!”

“Made,” Howard said, earning him a glare from Colonel Phillips. 

“I’m going,” Bucky said stubbornly.

“I can’t let you.”

“I will _crawl_ there if I have to.”

“You’re on death’s door,” the surgeon said flatly. Bucky stared at him, trying to figure out how to tell him that he didn’t care about that if he could just take Schmidt to hell before he died, when Howard spoke up again.

“Sir, let me take a look at him. If can’t give this soldier two good arms, then he can’t come, agreed?”

Phillips clearly thought both of them were insane, but agreed anyway in exasperation. Anything to shut them both up. He left, dragging the sputtering army surgeon with him.

Howard looked at Bucky with a strange mixture of sympathy and nervous anticipation.

“I know you want to go, and I will try everything I can to get you there, but you’ll still need some time to heal.”

Bucky reached up and pulled Howard close so he could speak directly in his ear. Maybe Howard could give him an arm, but he didn’t dare put himself into the hands of any kind of doctor until Howard was aware of a single, crucial fact.

“Zola was trying to make super soldiers. Everyone they tried it on died but me. I lived. It worked. Check my blood.”

Howard swallowed, and Bucky saw understanding in his eyes. “I already did.”

Bucky held his gaze, putting in everything he’d had to do to survive, until Howard looked away first. “Put on the arm,” Bucky demanded.

“Give me the details,” Howard said stubbornly. Bucky kept ahold of Howard’s collar and told them. The injections. The bombardment of hot light until his skin blistered. The attempts to break him through torture and drugs and strange machines. The tests that pulled back his skin and broke his bones to watch them heal. The mind games and tricks to mess with his head so much he had thought he was dreaming when Steve had come…

Howard listened without comment, one hand on Bucky’s good arm. It was as if he almost knew once Bucky started, he shouldn’t stop because otherwise he’d never finish. It was a relief that someone else was hearing the story, that someone else could say what a monster Zola was. Saying it out loud didn’t change anything that had happen to him, but Howard wasn’t looking at him with skepticism or pity. He was looking at him with respect.

“All right, you got it.” Howard paused, and took a deep breath. “If you process drugs like Steve, this surgery is going to be hell.”

Bucky gave him a feral baring of teeth in return. “Nothing I ain’t done before. I’m gonna get that bastard if it’s the last thing I do.”

\--

One day and a hell of a surgery later, Bucky woke up to Agent Carter sitting at his bedside. He blinked at her, wondering what a woman like her was doing at the side of a guy like him, after he’d let Steve die.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said, once she’d seen his eyes flutter. No hiding a thing from her. He opened them up, staring down at the gleaming metal arm which had replaced his own flesh and blood. He flexed it, feeling a curiously dull sense of touch barely letting him feel the rough weave of the blankets against his hand. But he could _feel_. He had an arm again. Stark was a damn genius. Steve would have loved this; not that Bucky had gotten hurt, but at what technology could do. They would have joked about it, talking for hours. Bucky felt a hot wave of regret and swallowed it down immediately.

“Yeah, Agent?”

“I have the details of the mission, if you’re ready to hear it.”

Bucky met her gaze, wondering what was going through her head. Was she angry at him for failing Steve? 

“We aren’t going to fail. Are we?” she asked. In her eyes, Bucky didn’t see disappointment. He saw the same rage he shared, that it was time for this to _end_. He bet his remaining arm that Agent Carter wasn’t going to stay behind this time.

“No, ma’am. We’re gonna get that bastard.”

“Very good, Sergeant.”

\--

Bucky stared through the shattered windows of the Valkyrie with despair in his heart. They’d been so sure Schmidt and his damn blue cube had been on the plane. Bucky had made a leap from a speeding car to get on it, and fought his way past armored Hydra fanatics, seeing huge bombs with the names of every major city on the Eastern Seaboard in the belly of the plane. He’d forced his way to the cockpit and taken on five of the squid bastards at once, only to realize that the plane, while carrying a deadly payload, had not been carrying the leader of Hydra. But the fight had damaged the autopilot, and bailing out wasn’t an option. Bucky had two choices – save himself and see half his nation reduced to fire and ashes, or force the plane in the water.

_Carter, Stark, don’t let Steve down._ Bucky gripped the plane’s controls and looked at the long, cold drop through the windows. He hoped Steve wouldn’t be too disappointed in him for dying the same damn way. Taking a deep breath, Bucky shoved the yoke forward and plunged the Valkyrie into the ocean.

\---

_**75 years later…** _

A soft bed. Pale colors. Antiseptic smell.

Infirmary.

Bucky woke up slowly, looking around a bland room with blank white walls, no windows, and a strangely shiny door with a silvery handle. It was quiet, with no sounds of other people in the hallways, no drone of planes or rumble of truck engines, no clatter of typewriters or chatter from radios.

“Sir, if you will remain here for a moment, Master Stark will be here to meet you.” The British-accented voice issued from some hidden speaker, leaving Bucky staring around wildly, looking for where in the world it could be hidden. Was there a false wall, false ceiling? He went to stand up, realizing he was wearing loose white pants and a loose white shirt, feet in thick white socks.

Sudden recognition that he was _alive_ spawned a gut-punch of memory. Where the hell was he? How the hell was he still living? And who had him? The British voice argued for the Allies, but accents were a dime a dozen. He backed himself into the corner near the blind spot where the door would open, ready to get answers by force if anything seemed off.

“Sergeant Barnes, I know you have no reason to trust me, but you are not in danger and are not being held against your will. The door is unlocked. No one here means you harm. We would recommend not going onto the street until you have been updated on the current situation.”

“Who are you? And where am I? Where’s Howard?” Bucky crept forward and tested the door. Unlocked, as advertised. He peaked outside. A normal-looking hallway, carpeted in thin gray carpet, walls painted pale gray, the ceiling lights very flush and long and far brighter than he was used to. More doors along the hallway, and another at the end. He looked back at his small room, strode back and wrenched off a piece of the bedframe for use as a club, wrapped the blanket around his right arm for a scrap of protection, and eased into the hallway.

“I am Jarvis. It wasn’t necessary to dismantle the bed, Sergeant Barnes. Master Stark would be overjoyed to supply you with any weaponry you desire, armor as well. He knows you appreciate good tools for your work. To that end, he apologizes that he examined your arm while you were in recovery, and made significant updates to the tactile sensors, strength, and durability. There was some damage from your lengthy period of inactivity, and he felt you would prefer to wake with a fully-functioning arm. He apologizes for the presumption and will only make changes in the future at your request. He will relay that apology to you in person, once he arrives.”

Bucky barely knew how to digest that statement. “You can see me?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. He couldn’t see anything he recognized as a camera anywhere. They had to be extraordinarily well-concealed. The part about his arm he verified himself, running the tips of his metal fingers over the weave of the blanket, feeling it clearly as his flesh fingertips. Stark’s replacement had been good, but not _that_ good. How had he come up with such upgrades in such a short time? Or… how long had he been out? This Jarvis fellow implied he’d been out for a long time. 

Could he trust the disembodied voice? Was there a place where Jarvis’ eyes couldn’t see? He padded down the hallway as quietly as he could, his sock-feet making it easy. He checked every door, finding three more rooms identical to his own, all unoccupied, a bathroom that was tiled all over in gray and white, with a large shower in one corner, and another room with a long table and chairs with a sheet of white plastic against one wall. The design of the room was odd, reminding Bucky a little of something from one of his science fiction book covers.

At the door at the end of the hallway, Bucky listened again. He heard nothing, so opened it, finding what looked like a waiting room at a doctor’s office, albeit something with the same futuristic design as the meeting room. There were glossy magazines on the table, all with brightly colored photographs that made his eyes pop. None of titles were familiar, nor were any of the people on the covers. And none were about the war. You couldn’t get away from the war, so why were these magazines about… he eyed them more closely, decorating the home and making food and traveling to Japan?

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

“Sergeant Barnes, Master Stark is on his way,” Jarvis said, his voice crisp and precise, “but I have been directed to attempt to answer any questions you have.” 

Bucky looked back and forth around the room, mouth slightly dry. There was another exit from the room, but he suddenly found himself disinclined to expose himself more. Howard was allegedly meeting him, and Bucky would rather not do that while he was surrounded by other people and wearing pajamas. He’d cleared this area, at least.

“Where are you? I want to see you,” he demanded. He’d feel a hell of a lot better about speaking to a person if he could at least get a read on their expression. Being talked to by a disembodied voice was throwing him off-balance.

“Ah, I’m afraid that will not be possible,” the voice said, sounding slightly apologetic. “I do not have a face. Or a physical form, in the traditional sense. I am an Artificial Intelligence created by Master Stark. I am a form of computer system. A machine, if you will.”

Bucky’s grip on his makeshift club tightened, the gears of his arm whirring, deforming the metal slightly. This was straight out of one of his books, except his books hadn’t felt so real.

“Where is this place?”

“Stark Tower.”

_When did Howard get a building named after him?_

Jarvis kept talking over Bucky’s confusion. “It is located at 200 Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York.”

“How the hell did I get here? How long was I out?”

There was a long pause, and when Jarvis spoke again, he sounded reluctant. “Sergeant Barnes, the date is June 9th, 2018.”

Bucky felt a roaring in his ears. He staggered back as if Jarvis’ words had physically pushed him, and nearly ran to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. His hair was a little longer and shaggy, but otherwise he looked about the same as he remembered. Certainly not nearly a hundred years old. He went back to the waiting room and leafed through the magazines, noting the dates of publication were all in the year of 2018. The people, houses, cars, appliances, everything in their glossy, colorful pages of photographs looked new and futuristic. Perhaps not quite like his science fiction novels, but not far from it. There were hundreds of pages between the various magazines, which was a little far to go for a ruse. Not out of the question, but certainly a bit far.

“When you brought the Valkyrie down, you were likely knocked unconscious on impact. When your body encountered the freezing conditions of the ocean, the temperature put your body in a state of suspended animation. You were frozen in glacial ice and recently discovered by Master Stark. He brought you secretly back to New York to revive you.”

Bucky pinched himself. The pain seemed real enough. The door to the waiting room opened and Bucky nearly hurled his club at the person entering, checking himself at the last second. The man was short, dark-haired, with his face decorated by an elaborate goatee and moustache. His suit was impeccably fitted, but the cut was strange. But most of all the cast of his features was more than a little familiar.

“Master Stark, so good of you to arrive. Sergeant Barnes was having difficulty with the news of the date.” Jarvis’ voice sounded rather disapproving at Stark’s tardiness. Bucky was still undecided if this was a hoax or not, but despite not having a face or a physical form, Jarvis was definitely embodying Bucky’s mood right now.

“You’re not… Howard,” Bucky said, not releasing the grip on his club. He couldn’t hear anyone in the next room, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Tony Stark. Howard was my father. Look, I’m sorry you woke up alone in there, but I had a damn meeting I seriously couldn’t get out of, so I had to make up some crisis to solve to get me out of there.”

“Don’t know why I should believe you.” Silence would have been a better option, but Tony seemed to be the only one here, and he was definitely a civilian. The stoic routine Bucky had used in Azzano wouldn’t get him what he wanted. Bucky couldn’t verify anything yet, but if “Tony” was going to be verbose, Bucky might as well take advantage of the situation.

Tony nodded and spread his hands disarmingly. He had an elaborate-looking watch on one wrist, clearly very expensive. “I’ve got proof, if you want to hear it.”

Bucky nodded stiffly. 

Tony took a breath, as if bracing himself, and told him his own nightmares. Everything that Howard had known. Things he hadn’t told another living soul about what had happened in Azzano, things Howard would have kept secret.

Bucky swallowed as Tony finished describing the surgery that had knitted metal and wire into his skeleton and muscles, including all of his half-delirious swearing. 

“Okay,” he said. “All right.” It was possible, slimly possible, that Howard had recorded everything that had happened on reels or paper. Except Howard had sworn on Steve’s life that he’d keep Bucky’s secret safe. Phillips had never known, the army had never known; Bucky hadn’t even told the Howling Commandos, though they had likely silently guessed.

Phillips had tried to get the details when Bucky had walked out of Howard’s lab a week after they’d captured Zola with a metal arm and healthy color. Howard had evaded every question with deflection, charm, and obstinate stubbornness. Everyone’s curiosity had gone unsatisfied. 

No one else could have known, except Howard Stark’s own flesh and blood. Tony’s age gave sudden proof to Jarvis’ claim about the impossible date.

Bucky was living in the future. 

“Did we win?” he asked.

Tony let out a short laugh, but his expression looked deeply troubled. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Bucky sat, but kept his club near at hand, getting a sense of foreboding. 

“After you went, the US was gaining ground in Europe, nearly had everything locked up. We had plans to use a really nasty weapon they were developing against Japan. Dad said the guys on the project called it an ‘atomic bomb’. It would have obliterated cities and forced them to surrender.” Tony looked tightly wound as a spring. “Then Steve Rogers came back.”

Bucky opened his mouth, hope surging through him, then Tony dropped the world out from under him with his next words: “On Hydra’s side.”

“…no.”

“Jarvis, roll the tape.”

One of the walls of the room became a small movie screen, and a chopped-up movie started to play without any visible projector. It showed war footage of Steve – Steve in a dark version of Howard’s armor, the ruined star on his chest replaced with the spreading tentacles of Hydra’s symbol. His shield too, how, had Hydra’s mark all over it.

“I don’t know what they did, exactly, but they flipped him, and hard. He led them right to every base, safe house, supply depot, and stronghold. They…” Tony laughed bitterly, “Hydra caught us off-guard by fighting alongside us at first to wipe out the real fanatical Nazis, kill Hitler, even dismantle the concentration camps. Then they turned right around again, got Russia on their side, rallied the rest of the Axis. It was bad, but what was worse was that it was Steve Rogers, Captain Hydra. He brought people over to his side, and he knew where to hurt us. He knew so many vulnerabilities.”

Bucky had nearly stopped breathing. No wonder it had happened so fast. Steve remembered everything he saw, everything he read, and nearly everything he heard. Steve’s five-second glimpse of a map of Hydra bases on a wall in Azzano had given the Howling Commandos targets for nearly two years. And Steve had been at command tables all over Europe. Other officers had talked with him, shown him their maps and plans, asked for his opinion. Most of it hadn’t been useful for the Commandos’ missions, but once Steve had been turned, damn near the entire war strategy would have been available to his new masters.

“Rogers found Schmidt in whatever hole he was hiding, kicked Tesseract weapons production into high gear, and they activated sleeper agents in America. Between propaganda, sabotage, trickery, assassination, and force they wrapped up Europe, Russia, and North America is less than five years. Most of the rest of the world got rolled up in alliances, or were manipulated into compliance in ten.”

“The… bombs?” Bucky asked, dreading the answer. 

Tony relaxed a fraction. “Once Dad saw how things were going, he got the rest of the high-level project scientists to burn every note on it, dismantle and sabotage every component they could, then scatter themselves. We saved that much, at least until later, after the war was done. They figured it out eventually, but there wasn’t any reason to use it, at least not the big ones.”

Bucky didn’t care about that one victory in the hellscape history had become. 

“ _How?_ ” he asked in agony.

“Hypnotism, drugs, the machines, a lot more of what they did to you, but subtle. Rogers… still acts like Rogers, that’s what Dad said, but it was like someone had redirected his loyalty. Damndest thing he ever saw. That was what killed us – Steve’s voice on the radio, Steve’s face on the films and newspapers, later on TV. He made it seem reasonable.”

The movie screen was showing more of the endless propaganda films that Steve had made as Captain America, but in that damned black and red suit. More followed, some in brilliant colors with crisp edges, clearly from modern day, like those magazines on the table. There was no sound, but it was clear Steve was advocating for something under a Hydra banner.

“The Commandos? Peggy? Colonel Phillips?” Bucky asked. How had no one managed to stop this?

Tony took a deep breath. “Phillips was killed in action in Europe, probably assassinated. The Commandos died trying to snap Steve out of it, and Peggy went underground with Dad right afterward.”

Bucky felt numb. All of them, dead?

“We think the Howling Commandos might have been close to breaking through to him, so Hydra pulled him out and collapsed a building on them. They took out twenty of their own in the process, just killed them to make sure the Commandos couldn’t escape. That’s how much they wanted to keep Rogers.”

Bucky wanted to puke. 

“Dad resurfaced as soon as Peggy was out of Europe, and outwardly went right along with the new regime. It was the only way he could keep an eye on things for her. She went underground and organized the SSR into a multinational resistance movement, and called it the Shield.” Tony smiled fondly at that, and Bucky found a crumb of hope in the idea that Peggy had survived. “I grew up toddling in the underground bunkers and called her ‘Aunt Peggy’. She kept the flame alive and was a thorn in Hydra’s side for decades. When she died… In her sleep,” he added quickly, “though not for lack of trying; Hydra had her as their number one public enemy since they took over. That woman had a gun under her pillow in the nursing home. When Peggy died, I took over. Or… sort of. Her niece Sharon actually makes the trains run on time, because I’m dancing with the devil most days.” 

Bucky felt like he’d just been in a losing fight, dizzy from being punched from all sides. Steve was alive and now somehow the enemy. Hydra had won. Everyone he knew was dead.

“We’re fighting back,” Tony said firmly. “Hydra’s made a lot of mistakes. And they might have made the worst one in not finding you first.” 

“You think I can get him back?”

“I think you, me, and my friends might be the best shot we have. Come on. I want to introduce you to some heavy hitters. Shield’s best.” Tony walked over to the door, and Bucky saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took a steadying breath. That, more than anything, made him think was at least partially true. If Hydra were trying to mess with him, they’d have picked a story less crazy and a storyteller who wasn’t afraid of trying to get this right. Whatever else Hydra was, none of them had lacked in self-confidence.

Outside of the waiting room was what looked like the lobby of a hotel, sprawling and filled with overstuffed furniture, there was another of the small movie screens on one wall, and strange artwork on the others. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up one whole wall of the room, but they were covered with sheer curtains that still managed to hide nearly everything but the thin and watery sunlight of a winter’s day. Sitting in various chairs and sofas were four people who were staring at Tony and Bucky.

There was a terrible tension in the room, the kind Bucky had seen in battle-worn resistance fighters all over Europe. The man with the short, sandy buzz cut was likely some kind of military. The rumpled man looked more like one of Howard’s less-suave colleagues. The red-haired woman reminded him of Peggy in her air of absolute confidence, but was in an outfit he hadn’t seen, or even hoped to see, outside of certain disreputable establishments. The huge blond man almost reminded Bucky of a fanatical SS officer he’d fought once, but the long hair, beard, and easygoing stance made it unlikely he was a fanatic. And each of them had some kind of mask-like expression to hide nerves.

“Who are all of you?”

“We’re disgruntled employees,” Tony introduced, a little bit of smugness coming into his tone. “I supply weapons and tech to Hydra, and intel to the resistance. Sometimes muscle with the tech I don’t let them get their grubby paws on. Clint’s on one of their specialized STRIKE teams, Natasha’s one of their spies. Bruce was one of their chief scientists until they used him as a guinea pig. And Thor-”

“I came from Asgard for the Tesseract decades ago,” the long-haired blond interrupted, smiling slightly, “but the task is too great for one person. I have been forced to cultivate patience, look for allies such as these, and count my victories in small increments.” 

Bucky’s head was spinning. This was all too much. Asgard? Hadn’t he heard of that in a book of fairy tales he’d read as a kid?

Apparently sensing his confusion, Tony waved a hand. “Yes, Asgard is real, yes, Thor’s from there, yes, he’s kind of like a god. Asgard is another dimension, and his people are way ahead of us technologically, much to my disgust. Tesseract’s the proper name for that blue cube, and mortals shouldn’t be playing around with it, not that that’s stopped Schmidt, the murdering bastard,” Tony continued, almost all in one breath. 

From the small smile on Clint’s face, this was far from the first time he’d given that explanation. That made Bucky relax a little. Hydra didn’t have this much imagination.

“Tony, show him,” Natasha said, nodding at the windows. “Let him see for himself before we get any further into this.”

Tony went to the window and hit a switch. The curtains retreated to the sides automatically. They were in a tall building in Manhattan. Bucky could recognize the Chrysler Building, but so many other were seemingly all glass, ugly, tall, and strange. And everywhere was Hydra banners, Hydra flags. Hydra logos on billboards. Steve’s face, framed in black and red, the Hydra symbol on his forehead, calling for people to join the army, “For a peaceful world!” 

Bucky felt his gorge rise. His metal arm clacked against the glass as he stared out at the face of his best friend.

“Will you help us?” Tony asked after a long, horrible moment.

“What the hell have you been doing?” he snarled.

“We’ve been trying to keep people alive, keep hope alive, fighting for freedom however we can. It’s just… Rogers is the Pied Piper. Schmidt’s still alive, still in charge, but Rogers is the face. Everyone knows him. We can shut down experimental labs and free prisoners all we like, but Rogers is holding on to people’s hearts. Can you try to reach him?”

Bucky stared out the window, mesmerized. “Seventy-five years. You can’t tell me they kept him hypnotized for all that time.”

“No. From records we found on other prisoners, they’ve used drugs and electroshock machines too, all under guise of medical therapy. And he isn’t always awake. They pop him in and out of cryosleep, sometimes for years. He was under for almost five years, the longest I’ve known, then three years ago… That’s when the Scarlet Witch appeared. One of Von Strucker’s experiments; he’s one of the chief experimental scientists. She has some kind of mental manipulation powers, and that’s been keeping him in lockstep with Schmidt.”

That triggered something else Phillips had said, according to Steve. Steve had been one-of-a-kind, Schmidt a failed first draft, and Bucky had been a one-off beta trial. But if they’d had Steve alive and apparently willing for all these years…

“Why aren’t there thousands of super-soldiers running around?”

Tony snorted. “Not for lack of trying. Dad was only on the technical side of things, so he never really knew was Dr. Erskine did. But Zola and his successors kept trying variation after variation. Most subjects die or go insane. Those that don’t can’t always be controlled. There’s a lot of rogue versions of various serum knock-offs, so there’s a fair amount of people running around with enhancements, but they really can’t tailor them to order, if they live.” He looked at the rumpled man. “Bruce was the second-to-last generation of the ‘official’ serum program, and that _really_ didn’t go like it was supposed to.”

Bruce gave Bucky a humorless smile. “Not even Captain Hydra calls for volunteers for the super soldier program anymore. I was tricked. I was trying a radiation resistance drug on myself, but someone altered it. I-.” He stopped, looking glum. “I’ll show you later. It’s… big.”

“One moment, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis said, his voice issuing from a different part of the ceiling. No one else even looked up. The screen across the room began to play short reels of each of the others. Natasha, leaping out of hiding to take down guards and infiltrate a building with impressive stealth and acrobatic skill. Clint with a _bow and arrows_ in the middle of a battle, taking out foes with pinpoint accuracy Bucky hadn’t seen outside of a trick show. Thor, wielding a huge-headed fancy hammer, wreathed in lighting as he smashed through an entire squad of what looked like Hydra soldiers. Bruce, crouched down, skin and muscles rippling, suddenly turning green and growing _huge_ , roaring and literally throwing a _tank_ through a _building._ Bucky looked at the unassuming man with new respect. Then there was a short reel of someone in red and gold armor, flying through pulses of blue power on its hands and feet, looking just like a robot. It fired pulses of energy at smaller robots, and blasted larger vehicles with what looked like tiny mortar shells that did a disproportionate amount of damage. The face of the thing was blank, but the flashiness of it matched right up with what Bucky had seen of Tony’s style.

“Iron Man. The mysterious scourge of Hydra, and part of those rebel Avengers who keep messing up their plans,” Tony explained, waving his arm at his companions. “We’re one of the latest groups of people to do the job.”

More pictures flashed by on the screen, some in black and white, others in color, mostly of people in various costumes, some holding weapons, others in aggressive poses, most of those fighting others wearing the Hydra logo. It looked like they’d been at this for as long as Hydra had been taking over.

“How the hell did people keep coming up with costumed heroes for all this time?” Bucky demanded. “I thought ‘Captain Hydra’ would’ve soured that for everyone.” 

“Because of Captain America. And Peggy Carter,” Tony said. “Look, after her and Dad founded Shield, they didn’t want the name of Captain America to get lost as Hydra rewrote the history books. So… Peggy took up the shield.”

Bucky felt stunned as a picture appeared of Peggy costumed and masked like Captain America, her shield more like the one Steve had had in Azzano. “She trained a _lot_ , and Dad made her some temporary boosters if she was going into a nasty situation. And she did it. She kept the resistance alive long enough to inspire more heroes and keep hope going.”

He swallowed, still trying to digest the thought of Peggy taking up the shield. “Why?”

“If she ever showed her face as Peggy Carter… They would have done to her what they did to the Howling Commandos. Or worse. And she found a husband, had kids. Was friends with Dad. The second she goes public, everyone she loves becomes a target, and Dad loses the inside track on Hydra.”

“So, the masks.”

“The masks,” Tony agreed easily.

“And us,” Natasha added. “Though since the rest of us decided to be double-agents, we had to forgo the masks because our skill sets are fairly identifiable. We just have to have plausible deniability for doing Shield work while Hydra pays our paychecks. Then there’s Thor,” she nodded at the other man, “who doesn’t officially exist.” 

Thor nodded back with no irony at all.

Bucky looked at the screen briefly before Peggy’s picture faded. Peggy may have begun something, but by now things had gone far beyond anything Bucky had seen. He no longer had trouble believing that they were serious, but he wasn’t sure what exactly they wanted him to do. He would do anything to shake Steve out of his nightmare, but if he succeeded, what then? Would these people, who could punch through tanks and scale buildings with their hands, take control?

“If you could do this, who takes over after Hydra goes?”

“We’ve got people in Shield who are also in the government; they can hold things together until everyone can vote on leaders. It’s probably going to suck for a while, but the Resistance has been hammering out a new Constitution for a long time. We’ll have a foundation to start on, but we’re not going to try to direct the future step-by-step,” Tony said.

“How do I know I can trust you?” A lot was riding on that answer, in particular whether Bucky were going to leave this place quietly, violently, or in a body bag. 

Tony shrugged. “You don’t. You heard what I told you, and you can decide whether to believe it or not. If you want to go, I probably can’t stop you if I wanted to. And I’m not going to. I’ve got an ID made up for you on that table. You’ll have to show it when the police ask you, or anytime anyone else asks, or they’ll haul you off to jail. There’s a subway pass in there too. There’s a sleeve for your arm to make it look normal enough to the pass. Go if you want.” Tony’s tone was casual, but his shoulders were stiff and set. The rest of the Avengers were looking at him with different degrees of anticipation.

Bucky couldn’t help but squint suspiciously at him. “What’s the catch?” There was always a catch.

“I think there’s a dozen different ways to bring down Hydra, but there’s maybe one or two ways to do it that don’t involve purposefully or accidentally-by-panic blowing up half the world. Both of them involve you, because without Steve Rogers on our side, wholly and willingly on our side, we aren’t going to be able to persuade people out of the little boxes of fear Hydra’s got them trapped in.” Tony’s tone was matter-of-fact, but the way he shifted as he spoke betrayed his frustration. “And that means we’d be fighting off Hydra alone. There’s maybe a couple thousand of free enhanced, at best, scattered around the world. There’s more in the rebellion, more than Hydra wants to admit. But we’d be outnumbered a hundred to one or more, with nearly everyone who’s not fighting closing us out. I don’t want to count on the non-Hydra nations, because they’re using everything they have just to keep squid-free, and most of that means figuratively kissing Hydra’s boots. So it’s just us, unless we get that miracle.” Tony pointed at Bucky, smirking slightly. “Like you.”

Bucky stared hard at Tony, then looked out at the banner of Captain Hydra displayed on the skyscraper outside the window. “You aren’t too bad at inspiring speeches, Stark.” _Damn it, Steve. I ain’t leaving you to fight this alone._ “I’m in.”

Tony let out a relieved sigh. “Thank fuck, because I was out of any more arguments more eloquent than begging like a five-year-old after a piece of candy.”

Bucky smiled tightly. “Tell me what you got.”

“Look, until we, and I mean all of us, Jack Frost, find a way to get the Captain isolated so we can try to knock some sense back into him, we’ve got to get you up to date.”

Bucky had to reluctantly agree with that. Part of him wanted to run right to Steve, right to Red Skull, rattle one’s brains and blow the other’s out, but that wasn’t going to work. Both were probably too well-protected to get at easily, and Bucky was operating on outdated intel. He’d always been one to pour over the information when it came in, finding ways to keep Steve and the rest of the Howlies safe from his perch. As a sharpshooter (the new term, he learned later, was “sniper”, as Clint called himself), he’d been the eye in the sky, and he couldn’t do that now if he couldn’t even call out the dangers because he didn’t know what they were.

“Let’s get this done.”

“And get a way for you to be seen in public, because Hydra doesn’t like it when Bucky Barnes lookalikes get too much air time,” Natasha added. She brought up another bunch of files on her gleaming tablet, like a smaller version of the screen on the wall, and handed it over to him. He blinked at it, staring at what should have been an honest paper file. “The SSR and later Shield had some ideas on how to break Steve Rogers out of his conditioning at first, and several of them involved a Barnes lookalike. It’s been tried a few times over the years, but Hydra’s response to that has always been… over the top.”

Bucky’s heart leapt, and then abruptly sank. “If we miss our chance, even once, they’ll never let him engage with me again. If they even think it’s me, they’ll-”

“Call in an airstrike, level a few square blocks, and count the cost a small one, never doubt it,” Thor said, nodding solemnly. “The Red Skull has not lived over a century without preparing for nearly every possible way his plans could be thwarted. Therefore, until the time is at the most advantageous, you must seem to be other than yourself.”

Tony was apparently a maker of costumes as well as armor and weapons, and began suggesting ideas on the spot, but it was Clint who suggested the goggles and mask to hide Bucky’s face. “Those will mess up the facial-recognition scanners for certain. Grow your hair out to cover your ears, get you some modern clothes, and they won’t tag you.”

Bucky handed the tablet-thing back to Natasha and felt a headache coming on.

“What the hell is ‘modern’ nowadays?”

\--

The world had moved on without him, but Bucky now had five people to fill him in on everything he had missed, from world history and science, to culture and the art of war. Despite the rise of Hydra, people had continued to advance and grow. Over the next few weeks, Bucky took a hard course in expanding his mind and reconditioning his body. Though he didn’t ignore learning about the art and invention that had been created in his absence, Bucky was a soldier, and he was gearing up for war.

Bucky looked over the selection of armored outfits Tony had designed for him with a skeptical eye. “These are supposed to be inconspicuous?”

“You’ve read the histories,” Tony said, fiddling with his suspended blue light diagrams and looking at what seemed to be some version of the arc reactor that powered his suit. “Red Skull was never one for subtlety, especially not after he took over. Most of those’ll let you tag along in any squid squad without drawing much notice. If it’s a chaotic situation, the goggles and mask are _de rigueur_ for the chemicals they’ll use for crowd control. And, ya know, to keep up the intimidation factor.”

“And to keep them from being recognized and attacked when out of uniform?” Bucky guessed shrewdly. Despite Hydra’s iron grip on much of the world, there was no way Tony and the rest of the Avengers could have kept doing what they were doing if they hadn’t had some support from the people.

Tony turned a little section of his diagram around in mid-air, spinning it with a swat of his hand. “Yeah, you got it,” he said, voice soft. “Not exactly something they advertise when they’re recruiting. That was when we knew we were at a turning point. Damn lucky you thawed when you did.”

Bucky swallowed. He could follow the reasons why. As Captain Hydra, Steve was still weirdly liked by the masses, even if the Hydra foot soldiers were being targeted by the growing Resistance. If the Avengers ended up killing him, they might turn him into a martyr to Red Skull’s cause. And with what he’d learned about the capabilities of science and technology, it wasn’t impossible for Hydra to bring in a body double with a face cut to look like Steve’s to play the part for a while, or use some picture generated by a computer until they had the world back in their palm again. 

Bucky looked through the suits, eyebrows raising at one seemingly made of black leather with heavy straps across the chest. It looked like something meant to control a wild animal, rather than for a person. His hand finally landed on something close to the blue coat he used to wear, with enough protection and cut easily enough that his metal arm wasn’t likely to rip the damn thing. Or if it did, it at least wouldn’t take the chest armor with it. His heart had taken enough of a battering as it was; he didn’t need to add bullets to the list.

He shrugged on the jacket, vest, and accompanying pants, boots, and accessories, finding them suspiciously well-fitted. He glanced sideways at Tony, who seemed to be far too interested in his glowing diagrams for questions. Natasha appeared in the doorway and inclined her head out of the workshop. Bucky followed her gratefully. He opened his mouth as she walked, but she smoothly cut him off

“Yes, he has your measurements,” she said easily, answering his questions before he could voice them. “You were frozen and unconscious, and he scanned you. Weirdly, I think the little costume display was to show he cares.” She smiled slightly. “He also has my measurements, and I’m not going to ask how he got them.” 

“Because you already know?” he hazarded.

Natasha shrugged. “I’ve been a spy in Hydra’s arsenal for a long time, and clothing was sometimes my armor and weapon.”

Bucky fingered the material of his jacket. While not as thin or comfortable as some of his modern clothes, it still seemed too thin to be protective. Steve’s suit had been a lot heavier- Bucky stopped that thought before it made him even more glum.

“Look,” she told him plainly. “Clint and I are going to raid a warehouse and get some lovely tracking equipment out of Hydra hands before they can go violate more privacy. We could use some more cover. Ready to start committing treason?”

He smirked. “Where and when?”


	2. Struggle

Clint was a barely-visible smudge on the opposite rooftop, both of them having clear views of the open warehouse doors. Trucks were being loaded up with crates that Natasha, who was concealed in the warehouse rafters, was examining with a scanner. Soon they’d know exactly where each truck and each crate were headed, and with a little luck from the GPS scramblers she’d tagged them with earlier, redirect the critical trucks to somewhere much more easy to ambush. But until then, Clint and Bucky had to make sure that no Hydra workers saw a shadow where there was none.

The mission was proceeding smoothly, and Bucky was very much enjoying the tiny earpiece that was so much clearer than the old radios. Infinitely easier to carry concealed as well. He could even quietly banter with Clint and Natasha while they had waited for the delivery trucks to be loaded, which made the ordeal much less onerous. But now the earpiece was suddenly filled with Clint’s voice.

“Movement down Wharf Street. Hydra convoy.”

Bucky kept his eyes on Natasha’s area, trusting Clint to get his job right.

“Coming to the warehouse. Probably a surprise inspection.”

Soon enough a convoy of three large military vehicles with the Hydra logo stopped in front of the warehouse. The workers lined up neatly for inspection, some straggling as it was clear they were only minutes away from filling the trucks. Hydra officers piled out of the first and last truck, moving into the warehouse without a word, clearly following a set plan. 

Then the second truck opened up.

Bucky heard his voice speak without realizing it was his. “Captain’s in the field.”

Captain Hydra stepped from the vehicle, body wrapped in modern black and red, Hydra logo on his helmet and spreading red across his chest like a bloodstain, black and red shield on his back. Trailing close behind was a young woman in scarlet, her long dark hair unbound, who trotted at his heels.

“The Witch?” he heard himself asking, lips numb.

“Yes,” Clint hissed. “And why the fuck is Captain Hydra at a damn warehouse? Did he get a tip Natasha was here?”

“I’m aborting,” Natasha said, her voice a thread of sound.

Bucky watched through his sniper’s scope as Captain Hydra spoke briefly to the warehouse supervisor. As he turned, gesturing at something inside, Bucky could see his red eyes glinting in the sun. He repressed a shiver of unease as he watched for any indication that Natasha had been spotted. Apparently the Scarlet Witch lived up to her name, her power over Steve’s mind leaving his eyes crimson, giving him a sinister look that fit Hydra’s M.O. to a T. Bucky concentrated on the shape of people’s mouths, trying to read lips to figure out what they were talking about. Apparently Red Skull liked to use German for all official Hydra business, and after a few moments of concentration, he realized they were talking about a traitor in the ranks. He hisses his guesses over the comms and moved his finger closer to the trigger.

Clint kept quiet, as if afraid Steve would hear him even over a hundred yards away. Natasha retreated quietly, efficiently, and didn’t make another whisper of contact until she was completely clear.

Bucky kept watching as Natasha confirmed her new position, pulse racing as the Hydra soldiers shouted and grabbed a man in coveralls, dragging him to the docking bay doors and forcing him to his knees. From the few facing out Bucky could see them saying something about, “subversive behavior” and “conduct unbecoming”. Captain Hydra stepped up in front of the kneeling man, and seemed to ask him a question. The man looked up at him defiantly, then spat at those shiny black boots.

Captain Hydra shook his head, and looked to one of the other soldiers with him, a thin man who was holding… Bucky realized a moment later that the thin man was holding a cell phone sideways and steadily towards the kneeling man. He was filming the incident. Captain Hydra said something to the camera, the first line in German that Bucky couldn’t quite catch, but the second was in English. _“Justice must be swift to secure peace and prevent war.”_

“Barton?” Bucky asked tightly, finger wrapped around the trigger guard. He had a sudden terrible sense of foreboding.

“Nothing we can do. He must be from another cell. Damn it,” Clint whispered back, clearly not any more comfortable with this than Bucky.

Bucky’s return question was lost as Captain Hydra swung his shield in a short, sharp arc, crushing the man’s throat. He then flipped a knife into his other hand and stabbed him through the temple, then the brainstem, in two swift motions. He wiped the knife off in a handkerchief that the Witch held out for him, then sheathed it back in place. Turning his back, he returned to the vehicle as the thin man with the phone got closer to the body.

Steve Rogers had just executed someone live on television.

Bucky couldn’t even move. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

“Clear the area. They’ll bring in more patrols to sweep soon,” Natasha said in his ear, waking him from his stunned daze.

Bucky was in turmoil as he packed up his gear and got ready to go to the rendezvous point, emotions surging between the cold of betrayal, and the heat of pure rage. When he had a moment, he tried to force them into something strong enough to win and cool enough to keep his sanity. Steve didn’t know him yet, didn’t remember who he was, what he was doing, or why. Bucky would remind him the second they could get him free.

\--

Steve woke just before dawn, the warmth of his bed reminding him that he was active again. Needed. Called for forth from cryosleep to help Hydra in their times of trouble. He remembered… A flash of pain seared across his head as he recalled fragmented images of his past – his mother, some of his friends, laughing and looking up at someone – he hadn’t had to do that in a long time. Then the face of the man he’d had to execute yesterday. The evidence of the rebel’s guilt had been clear; he’d been caught tampering with communications equipment, clearly modifying it for additional transmissions, likely to other rebel bases. Unfortunately the codes to transmit to the bases were kept separate, so the rebel couldn’t give them the information. The law was clear, and the penalty was execution. Steve had made it as quick and painless as he could, though it had been distasteful to have to kill an unarmed, kneeling man. The headache increased, and the door opened as if in response. 

Wanda was there in the doorway, carrying a tray loaded with breakfast. When she saw his wincing, she quickly put the tray down on the table and was at his side. She placed a cool hand on his temple, and he saw a surge of crimson light. His memories settled as the pain receded – his good mother, dying of tuberculosis, his father dead so early, having a good life but a poor one, some good childhood friends, then the war and trying to make a difference. He’d found a way to grow strong through Dr. Erskine’s formula. Fighting in the war, then meeting Johann, and together they’d help shape the world for the better, so there would never again be a need for a large war.

The pain completely vanished as everything made sense again. It was a side-effect of cryosleep, but a price he was willing to pay to serve. “Better than coffee, Wanda,” he said with gratitude. She cast her eyes down, demurring. He sat up and she finally stood, letting Steve get out of bed and grab his robe. They both sat at the table and ate in mutual companionable silence, her reading an old science fiction novel, him skimming through the morning briefings and news that had been on the tray.

Wanda had been Steve’s aid for three years, there right when he’d gotten out of cryo again. She’d been assigned to him by Johann personally. 

-

“Sie ist ein Erfolg aus den Verbesserungsexperimenten mit dem Tesseract . Aber wo wir unsere Erfolge haben, so sind auch die Rebellen nicht untätig. Sie finden abtrünnige Inhumans und Mutanten um uns zu bekämpfen. Sie wird dich vor ihrem Einfluss beschützen und deinen Verstand klar halten.”

_“She’s a success from the Tesseract enhancements. But where there are our successes, so to do the rebels find rogue Inhumans and mutants to fight against us. She’ll keep you safe from their influence, and keep your mind clear.”_

“Vielen Dank, Johann. Ich weiss, sie wird eine große Hilfe sein.”

 _“Thank you, Johann. I know she’ll be a big help.”_

-

Wanda had looked much less terrified once he’d said that. She’d only been a kid when she’d been selected for the experiments, and having never met him in person, Steve had guessed she had only rumors to go on. He’d done everything he could to put her at ease.

Steve knew his STRIKE team assumed his relationship with Wanda was intimate, no matter what he told them. She lived in his quarters, after all. No use protesting she was like a kid sister. Rumlow had no patience for youth, and apparently had never had a relationship that had lasted longer than a week (or hadn’t involved money). Steve had fallen to ignoring his sly little asides once he’d made it clear that Wanda had the same rights, and strength to enforce them, as any STRIKE soldier. Her brother was in another special unit, so she understood.

Steve finished his newspaper and toast simultaneously. He downed the balance of his orange juice as Wanda finished her smoothie. “Any meetings before the mission?”

“Just with the President, sir, at eight.” Her voice was soft and slightly hesitant, as always.

“I’ll get my training in before I have to gear up, then. Thanks, Wanda. See you at mission control!”

She gave him one of her tremulous little smiles as he kissed the top of her head before he left.

Wanda toyed with her glass before she cleaned it out and set it besides Steve’s in the dishrack. Right on time, her phone rang. She answered immediately. She’d long ago learned the consequence of not.

“Ist er im Zeitplan?” came the voice on the phone. _“Is he on schedule?”_  
“Ja, Sir.” _“Yes, sir.”_

“Ist sein Verstand klar?” _“Is his mind clear?”_

“Er ist voll auf die Mission konzentriert, Sir. Keine Abweichungen festgestellt.” _“He’s on mission, sir. No deviations noted.”_

“Deinem Bruder geht es gut. Seine Einheit war erfolgreich. Sie werden die Funkstille morgen Nacht beenden. Du darfst seinen Anruf entgegennehmen.” _“Your brother is doing well. His unit was successful. They will be out of radio silence tomorrow night. You may answer his call.”_

Wanda tried hard to keep her voice level as her heart leapt.  
“Vielen Dank, Sir. Der Captain wird sie um 8 Uhr treffen.” _“Thank you, sir. The Captain will see you at eight.”_

The phone clicked, and the call ended. Wanda shoved it back in her pocket, then put her face in her hands to muffle her sobs.

\--

Steve knocked on the door, waited a respectful interval, then entered. The office was shrouded and dim, only a few lamps making small pools of warm light near some of the chairs. Steve’s night vision was excellent, and so was the President’s, and at the incredible age of one hundred and forty, if he wanted the office dark, dark it would remain. Barely visible in the gloom was the map of the world behind the massive desk, most of it marked with symbols of the nations under Hydra’s direct rule. The few nations that had held out against direct rule had accepted binding treaties, bringing the globe to nominal peace. But even in peace, order still had to be maintained. That was his job.

“Sir?”

“Steven. Sit down.”

The past seventy-five years had mellowed most of the German accent from Johann’s English, but Steve switched to German out of the respect for their long partnership.

“Wie kann ich helfen, Johann?” _“What do you need from me, Johann?”_  


The President leaned forward in his seat, bringing his face into the light. It was an unsettling countenance, particularly to those who didn’t know him well, but Steve had become accustomed to it. It had been his one constant for most of his life. The serum, even the earliest version Johann had taken, was remarkable at preservation. Steve had spent probably fifteen years in cryosleep over the past eight decades, off and on, and still looked much like his pictures from the 1940s. Johann had lived every year, but while he was thinner and more lined, somewhat frailer, he still was twice as capable as someone a fifth of his age. Hydra was lucky to have had a single strong leader at the helm when they had taken control, a leader who could provide consistency over the past three quarters of a century. Steve was proud to have brought order and peace to the world in Hydra’s name.

“ “Steven, wir haben Nachricht erhalten, das eines unserer Experimente gesichtet wurde. Der Hulk wurde von einer Drone entdeckt, und später wurde Dr. Banner in New York City gesichtet.” _“Steven, we have received word that one of our experiments has been spotted. The Hulk was spied by drone, and later, Dr. Banner was seen in New York City.”_  


Steve nodded, examining the pictures and reports Johann pushed over to him.

“Niemand hat erwartet, dass er in die Staaten zurückkehrt,” Steve said, thinking out loud. “Eigentlich ein schlauer Schachzug. Es wird interessant zu erfahren, wie er Indien verlassen hat.” _“No one expected him to come back to the States,” Steve said, thinking out loud. “It’s actually a smart move. It’ll be interesting to learn how he got out of India.”_  


“Höchst wahrscheinlich ein illegales Frachtschiff. Andere Teams untersuchen das bereits. Ich will den Doktor zurück in unseren Schoß führen.” _“Illegally-run cargo freighter, most likely. There are other teams investigating that end. I want the doctor back within our fold.”_  


Steve leafed through the pictures carefully, and a little too slowly.

“Steven, hast du etwas zu sagen?” _“Steven, you have something to say?”_  


Steve nodded; the hazards of a long partnership was not having any secrets. “Johann, was, wenn er sich nicht ergibt? Der letzte Versuch ihn mit Gewalt gefangen zu nehmen kostete die Leben von Gamma-Drei; zwölf gute Soldaten.” _“Johann, if he won’t surrender, the last attempt at capturing him by force cost Gamma-Three their lives; twelve good soldiers.”_

“Das ist passiert, als du geschlafen hast. Du führst jetzt dein Team an. Wenn seine Gefangennahme undurchführbar ist, muss er vernichtet werden. Unsere Feinde werden nicht davor zurückschrecken ihn gegen uns einzusetzen.” At Steve’s hesitation, he added, “Außerdem wird dir STRIKE Team Delta zur Verfügung stehen.” _“That was while you were asleep. You are leading your team now. But if it becomes untenable to capture him, he must be eliminated. Our enemies won’t hesitate to use him against us.” At Steve’s hesitation, he added, “STRIKE Team Delta will be available to you as well.”_  


Steve relaxed and nodded again. “Wenn Agent Romanoff und ich nicht zu ihm durchdringen, werden Barton das Team und ich sicherstellen, dass er niemandem sonst Schaden zufügen kann. Ich hoffe er kommt zur Vernunft. Er war einer unserer Besten.” _“If Agent Romanoff and I can’t appeal to him, Barton, the team, and I will make sure he can’t hurt anyone else. I hope he sees reason. He was one of our best.”_

“Bring ihn zurück, Captain.” _“Bring him in, Captain.”_  


Steve stood as Johann did as well, and embraced his old friend. “Das werde ich, Johann. Heil Hydra.” _“I will, Johann. Heil, Hydra.”_

“Heil Hydra, Steven. Viel Erfolg.” _“Heil, Hydra, Steven. Good luck.”_  


Johann Schmidt waited until Steven was well away, then made another call. Miss Maximoff picked up immediately. “Halte in seiner nächsten Sitzung Ausschau nach zu viel Sentimentalität, die sich störend auf sein Handeln auswirken könnte. Ich brauche ihn in Höchstform,” he said without preamble. _“In his next session, be watchful for too much sentiment interfering with needful actions. I need him honed sharp for future missions,” he said without preamble._

There was only a split second’s pause and then, “Ja, Sir. Wird er weitere Reden aufnehmen müssen?” _“Yes, sir. Will he need to record any more speeches?”_

“Ja, es werden noch einige folgen. Die Drehbücher werden in Kürze weitergeleitet.” _“Yes, several more after this is done. Scripts will be forthcoming.”_

“Selbstverständlich, Sir.” _“Of course, sir.”_

He hung up, pleased by her prompt response. It had taken some months after her powers had manifested and been trained to bring her to heel, but the love she shared with her twin had proven to be a potent motivator for them both. She made things far easier than the Faustus hypnosis, the drugs, or the electroshock memory machine. Steven, when brought into the proper mindset, was a good companion. Much more, however, would be needed. 

As much as the serum had sustained him, Johann was sure his time was growing close. If Hydra was to prosper and thrive, the world remain in order, peaceful and under correct rule, there was only one possible successor to his mantle. And he would see that accomplished, even if he had to have his little witch reprogram Steven’s mind piece by piece to do it.

\--

Bucky was nearly vibrating out of his seat in nerves. It had been nearly a year since he had been unfrozen, and over six months since he had started running missions with the Avengers. While Clint and Natasha kept their faces hidden during ops to allow themselves to continue to be double agents, Bucky had let his masked, menacing countenance been seen enough to let Hydra know they had another one of those damned Avengers to worry about. Apparently the few times he had been spotted Hydra had had to tag him with a name, and they’d chosen the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t sure he liked the moniker, but apparently Hydra didn’t have a suggestion box.

Tony was rubbing his hands in anticipation as Jarvis showed pictures of the mission site on the screen.

“We finally have a solid chance to shock the Captain out of his dream world. Bruce let himself be seen, and Natasha and Clint have been assigned as Rogers’ back-up. Iron Man,” he waved at himself, “and Thor will put in an appearance so Bruce doesn’t have to go green, and we’ll all work to get him isolated. Then…” Tony pointed to him. Bucky ran a hand through his long hair, grown in the long months of their planning so he wouldn’t be tagged on facial recognition. Between the new outfit, mop of hair, and his metal arm, he barely recognized himself. How could he expect Steve to? Then he mentally shook his head. He had more than his face going for him. Bruce had been carefully calculating the drugs needed to drop Steve and bundle him underground, if Bucky wasn’t able to affect a reverse heel-turn on the battlefield. He hoped to hell he could, but it not, they wouldn’t let Hydra do anything else to Steve.

“Hey, he’s coming with us, one way or another. Natasha’s going to watch out for the Witch,” Clint said. “We’ve got her timing down by now.”

“What’s to keep the Witch from turning him back on us, even if he does recognize me?”

Natasha smiled, a sad and bitter thing. “She’s got a twin brother. They both went through experiments and came out with powers. They’ve been kept separate as a check on their behavior. I recently learned that if one messes up, the other gets punished.”

“How did they get picked? I thought you said there weren’t volunteers anymore.”

“There aren’t open calls for volunteers. The Maximoffs were orphans, and encouraged to volunteer at sixteen to get out of the system. It’s… not good to say no.”

“What’s to say they’ll listen to you?”

“They’re the latest generation experiment. I’m from one of the early ones.”

Bucky blinked. Clint shrugged at him, his expression one that clearly stated that one should _never_ presume to think they knew everything about Natasha.

“I’m older than I look,” she explained quietly, her face expressionless. “Hydra never perfected the super soldier serum, but some of the tries had useful effects, if they didn’t kill you. I know what they’ve gone through. If we can guarantee her brother’s safety, we could turn _her_. I’ve worked with the Captain before. He’s better than Hydra, better than all of us. He’s a better _person_ than we deserve. I think that’s why they used cryo on him so much. The old techniques started breaking down. When they got the Witch, she was assigned to him immediately. I think they gave her an ultimatum; he goes rogue, her brother dies.”

“How do we get her brother?”

“Me,” Thor rumbled. “They never keep them close so they can’t plan together. I shall create a disturbance that requires the presence of his team. Then I shall capture him at the same time you capture the Witch and the Captain. We must act as one, or this opportunity will not come again.”

Bucky stared at all of them. “Why haven’t you done this before?” 

“Because you’re the last person alive who remembers him how he used to be,” Natasha reminded him. “If there’s anything that can shake him out of what Hydra did to him, it’ll be you. We might be able to flip the Witch, but we can’t count on it, and Captain Hydra has no reason to trust the Avengers. We’ll give you as much time and space as we can.” 

“And tranquillizers and a Quinjet nearby to knock him out, bundle him up, and bring him back somewhere so you can knock some sense into him in private, if you have to,” Clint added.

Bucky nodded, his metal fist whirring as he clenched it in anticipation of finally freeing Steve.

\--

“Wanda?”

“Yes, sir?”

Steve gave her a pained smile. “Call me Steve, please. Can you help me? I’ve got a wicked headache.”

She smiled more genuinely. “Of course, si- Steve.” She patted the bed as she pulled a chair up to it, and he sank down flat on the mattress gratefully. “Relax, close your eyes for me…”

As soon as her scarlet power touched him, he went boneless, going into a doze in which he wasn’t even consciously aware of anything. He drifted, and Wanda sunk into his mind as if she were sinking into a deep pool. On the surface and just under, the brightest, most active parts, were the memories and actions of Captain Hydra. Lower still were those of his early life and being Captain America. At the border, a red lynchpin of him having a long conversation with Johann Schmidt which had changed his life, convincing him that the best way to serve people was through Hydra.

Wanda sunk past it, ashamed. That memory was sunk very deep, like an embedded fishhook, fed by those early memories so that it felt real and reinforced his core values. That way he never consciously fought it. Some deep part of him did though, fighting against the foreign intrusion, which was why they needed her to keep smoothing over the flares that made him question his superiors.

She sank down, down to what looked like the bottom of his mind to any of the hypnotists or technicians who would try to probe him to verify her work. She sank past that, into a walled kingdom to where she, and she alone, held the keys. Here were Steve’s memories, from earliest childhood to the present day, free of the tampering and roadblocks, misdirected memories and outright fabrications that had been made over the years. The crucial conversation with Schmidt after his fall hadn’t budged Steve’s conviction an inch. He had been all proud defiance. He had refused every blandishment, threat, coercion, or twist of logic to serve Hydra, ready to die or escape rather than be used. Schmidt had used every weapon in his arsenal, machines, drugs, and a skilled hypnotist called Dr. Fennhoff who had, with fiendish cleverness, found a way to change Steve’s loyalty. As long as they could frame their requests and orders so that they didn’t clash with his values, he would serve.

Some part of Steve had retreated and hid from that, in a tiny walled refuge that remembered everything how it was. And Wanda had found it. Finding that one pure place, where a good man like Steve was still _himself_ wholly and completely, had been the only reason she hadn’t killed herself out of despair. She had spent time in those good memories; his mother, his city, his best friend Bucky. She’d laughed along with him Bucky’s jokes, smiled at his artwork, cheered when he’d stood up to bullies even if he hadn’t been strong. It was like having an older brother who’d tell her stories, like having Pietro back again.

Some of those memories had made her blush, with feelings of love so strong around Peggy, and guiltily, around Bucky. There were memories of kissing and touching in the cold, hidden by a thin layer of canvas and yet not willing to wait. But how could she begrudge him any happiness? The joy of those memories was so clear it made her heart race.

If she could release those true memories, she would, but not now. He was deep in the belly of the beast, and to tear off the blinkers now would only get him killed in his defiance of all he had become. If he was calm, he could do a lot of damage on the inside. But he wouldn’t be calm, once he realized how he’d been used. And she would not tarnish his soul unless there was a chance he could be saved. Him alone, even with her help, couldn’t escape Hydra, not with Pietro prisoner and Steve likely an emotional wreck from returning to himself. He would need time to process, time she couldn’t give him. 

They needed help. They needed a miracle. 

He needed help from outside Hydra, and who in the Resistance would help the spokesman and general for everything they hated? She knew they needed a miracle, a friend willing to risk everything to help them. But for who that was… All she could do was pray.

\--

It was a plan over seventy years in the making, and the crux of it had come down to plain bad luck. The appearance of Bruce had drawn Captain Hydra’s STRIKE squad, with support from Strike Team Delta. The nearby appearance of Thor had drawn Pietro’s squad. Tony and Clint’s plan to separate the Captain from his squad worked beautifully, and Natasha had blocked the way back with a well-timed trap. Bucky had lured the Captain into the trap with a well-timed dramatic entrance. Natasha engaged the Scarlet Witch to keep her from directing her power at Iron Man, visible higher in the sky.

Bucky had been prepared for a fight, and silently thanked every bruising session with Clint, Natasha, and Thor for getting him up to date on fighting techniques, because Steve fought like a damn demon. Bucky had wanted to get Steve deeper into their trap zone, close enough to the Quinjet for them to make a quick escape if his reveal worked as planned. 

Bucky ducked and rolled as Steve closed the gap too fast for him to continue his lure, head snapping back as Steve ripped at the bottom of his mask. It clattered to the pavement, skittering under a car. There wasn’t time to think. Bucky kipped up and turned as Steve rolled to his feet, less than twenty feet between them. Bucky could see Steve’s red eyes in pitiless clarity, the crimson hydra tentacles spreading across his chest where his star had been shot while trying to save Bucky’s life. He couldn’t avoid seeing Bucky now, but he was still tensing to attack.

“Steve!” Bucky said, realizing that between the scruff, long hair, metal arm, and new outfit he was far from how he’d looked the last time Steve had laid eyes on him. He needed to use his voice, his name, to try to get through to him. “It’s me, Bucky!”

Steve hesitated, and Bucky had a split-second of hope that he’d gotten through to him. But then Steve’s mouth firmed. “Who the hell is ‘Bucky’?” he asked, the stiffness in his stance less from shock and more from anyone daring to address him familiarly. Steve closed the distance between them shockingly fast, and had pulled out yet another damn dagger from a hidden pocket. Bucky retreated, giving ground to make Steve come to him, and dropped as Natasha yelled. The flash-bang assaulted his ears painfully, but with the warning he wasn’t blinded. As he ducked away into cover, he tried not to let her see how much he was hurting, and how few of the tears in his eyes were from the smoke.

-

Wanda could see Steve fighting himself, inexplicably avoiding the killing blow against the metal-armed assailant, the new Avenger they were calling the Winter Soldier. She couldn’t understand why, not until the man was thrown into a car facing her. She had been warding off the others, lighting up the Avengers so STRIKE could fire at them, but faltered as she saw the man’s face. His hair was longer, the metal arm had to be a new accessory, but the man fighting Steve had to be Bucky Barnes.

How he wasn’t dead decades ago, she didn’t know, but the hidden and barricaded part of Steve’s mind was all but shouting out for Captain Hydra not to hurt him. Steve likely had a blinding migraine as his deepest self fought the long-term programming, but his Hydra persona wasn’t letting him make the connection consciously. If Steve had been fighting whole-heartedly, he would have cut the man’s throat minutes ago.

She risked a lightning-quick probe of “Bucky’s” mind, afraid he was some kind of decoy, or even just a terrible coincidence. And nearly cried out in pained relief when she saw memories that matched Steve’s, just from another’s perspective.

If Steve killed him before he realized who Bucky was… Wanda knew Steve would never recover. That bright spark of buried true self might snuff itself out. Shouts from the STRIKE team brought her back to the here and now. They had been calling for backup for some time, and now another team was coming in from the next street. Her heart leapt when she recognized the distinctive silver-blue blur of her brother, brought in against the dire threat of the Avengers despite standing orders to keep the Maximoff twins separate.

Bucky was calling Steve’s name in desperation between punches and blows meant to kill, to erase the threat to Hydra, though they lacked their usual surety. Pietro was _here_ and so were the Avengers, who had to have brought Bucky with them.

She had to hope Bucky was everything his and Steve’s memories said he was.

Wanda took a deep breath and shouted in Sokovian, “ _Run!_ ” Pietro heard her and sped out of reach of their weapons, as she used one hand to turn her shield to prevent STRIKE from firing at the Avengers. With the other, she ripped the embedded fishhook of false memories out of Steve Rogers’ mind.

-

Bucky heard the Scarlet Witch cry out something in an unfamiliar language that made Steve start. Lightning crashed behind him as Thor powered in, followed by repulsor blasts by Iron Man and explosive arrows from Clint. Turning quickly, he saw that the Witch had turned her shield to help the Avengers. Natasha was shouting encouragement to her, and Bucky’s heart leapt. Thor shouted merrily, happily swatting aside the STRIKE soldiers, but letting the silver-blue blur that had to be the Witch’s speed-enhanced brother through. The kid came to a halt a dozen paces from the Witch, pale hair still waving in the breeze of his passing, watching his sister with awe and wonder.

“Wanda?”

The crimson veil flared and dropped from Steve’s eyes as the Scarlet Witch gasped, running to her brother and holding his head in her hands in disbelief and joy. Bucky’s eye stayed riveted on Steve. He could see the dream that Steve had been living in for so long suddenly fall away, memories coming to the fore, merging with his life before the fall. Anguish and shame twisted Steve’s face into a mask of agony as he realized the extent of what he’d done.

His hand moved so fast no one else could react. If Bucky hadn’t been within ten paces, he couldn’t have stopped it. He wasn’t even able to grab Steve’s arm. But he was able to shove his metal hand between Steve’s head and the gun he fired at his own temple. The physical shock was intense, but he recovered fast enough to wrestle the gun away. He quickly immobilized Steve’s arms by getting him in a bear hug as he sank to his knees. Action suddenly gave way to limp submission as Steve bowed his head, as if waiting for an executioner’s axe. 

Natasha found him some time later, second or minutes, Bucky didn’t know. She gently tugged on his elbow, getting both of them to their feet. Steve went with him limply, eyes not really looking at anything.

“Cameras are out, thanks to Tony. Nobody caught the last part of the fight. Let’s get the hell out of here before they send reinforcements.”

Steve was still half-collapsed against Bucky, shoulders trembling, still trying to process seventy-five years of lies. Wanda and Pietro were close by, far more relieved than devastated, though they held themselves was hunted-animal wariness. Natasha narrowed her eyes for a split second, then beckoned them both to cross the street to her. They came without hesitation, hand-in-hand as if afraid the other would disappear.

If a quarter of the office rumors were true, the Scarlet Witch should have had Rogers in irredeemable lockstep with Schmidt’s ideals. He should have shot Barnes in the head instead of hesitating or asking questions. Instead, Natasha had watched her use her powers on Rogers when he’d been faltering in his purpose, and suddenly he’d looked like a man who had woken up from a nightmare to discover it was all true. Somehow, the Witch had managed to save Rogers’ conscience, kept his mind from being crushed and turned upside down, all while keeping herself alive and in Hydra’s good graces. Her brother, too, was no kill commando. He had been an expert on capture and infiltration, probably to avoid giving a man with super-speed the ability to kill faster than bullets. Natasha started to realize that both of them were not the monsters they had been painted as.

“You’re coming with us,” Natasha said, with such a deliberate lack of inflection that they’d have to interpret it themselves.

“Thank you,” Wanda said in a soft, shy voice. Natasha smiled, and crooked her finger for them to follow her.

Steve was nearly catatonic by the time the most immediate of his emotions had been vented. It had been easy to steer him into the waiting Quinjet and strap him in a seat for the flight home. Iron Man had activated tracking-blockers in the cabin to block the inevitable beacons Steve likely had on him. Bucky guessed, from his new education in technology, that there were probably ones in the costume, shield, probably even some implanted into his body. No doubt if Zola had had more time in Azzano, Bucky would have been sporting some of his own so Hydra could keep track of their prize experiment.

“Hey Steve, we’re going to a safehouse. These people have been helping me.” No response but a few more errant tears trickled from his closed eyes. Bucky’s heart ached for him, and after he strapped himself in, he put an arm around Steve. His back and shoulders relaxed under Bucky’s touch, and he heard a tiny, strangled moan of pain. 

“I’ve got you,” Bucky whispered to him. He felt Steve turn his face into his hard metal shoulder and silently sob.


	3. Reunited

The trip back to the hidden Avengers base, concealed somewhere upstate, had barely been long enough for Steve’s tears to dry. When the Quinjet had landed, Bucky walked Steve out of the plane and into the hanger.

While Rogers was still barely aware, Clint and Natasha wanted to strip him of his gear, something that Bucky was all for. Anything to get Steve out of that horrible black and red. Wanda raised her hand as they carefully examined the shield, speaking at Natasha’s amused nod.

“There’s trackers in the shoulders of the costume, calf seams, waist, belt, helmet, and gauntlets. Shield straps also. He’s been implanted in both trapezius muscles, and there’s one in his hip and back left molar,” she reported with a matter-of-factness that just made Bucky depressed. Natasha raised an eyebrow and waved a small device over Steve’s body, small beeps sounding as she passed it over all the areas Wanda had said. 

Wanda handed over her own gear without a murmur, pointing to where the trackers in her own outfit were, looking vulnerable standing in her thin shirt and leggings. Pietro didn’t have any; between his hypermetabolism and the speed at which he moved, Hydra scientists hadn’t been able find ones to last. His check on his behavior had been his team and his sister, bound to Captain Hydra. If he had run away, Wanda would have suffered. That had been more effective than anything at keeping him in line.

When Rogers realized Natasha and Clint were taking off his gloves, he came back to himself abruptly. His eyes widened as he seemed to see the black and red costume for the first time. In a frenzy, he shed all of it, throwing the gauntlets and boots away, wrenching the armored jacket and shirt off, shoving the pants off his body and tossing the helmet to the floor. Underneath, he was wearing more Hydra logoed clothing, damp with sweat and blood from the fight. He stripped down to his briefs just as quickly, backing away from the clothes as if they were deadly poisonous. Bucky froze as Steve finally stopped, shaking in disgust. On Steve’s bare chest, where the Hydra weapon had fired at him all those years ago, was a shiny red scar. Bucky reached for it with his metal hand before he could stop himself, and Steve caught it, staring in wonder.

“Howard made that?” 

“Yeah, I can even feel with it. Tony did some upgrades.” 

Not exactly the most eloquent of reunions, but Bucky would take anything he could get that wasn’t Steve trying to kill him.

Steve held on for a minute, then let go. He didn’t even seem to see anyone else in the room, so Clint scooped up the clothes as the Maximoffs hastily exited after him. Natasha lurked quietly in the background; probably wise, considering what Steve had nearly done on the battlefield.

“You’re damn near naked,” Bucky pointed out, trying for amusement and failing miserably.

Steve stared at Bucky’s arm. “I just couldn’t stand looking at me with that squidhead logo anymore.”

“We’ll get your old one back.”

Steve relaxed a little, hands loosening out of clenched fists. “I don’t-”

“Or we’ll make you a new one,” he continued, ignoring the protests. “We had a time hiccup, Steve, and now we’re back. We’re together.”

“I don’t know if I deserve-”

“You had the entire Hydra force hitting you with everything they had,” Bucky stated flatly. “If the gunner on the train had shot a little bit to the right, then I was the one who fell and ended up under their control. Would you have come back for me?”

“Always, anytime,” Steve replied without hesitation.

“Then mope later. We’ve got a lot work to do.”

“How? How are you here?” Steve asked, rubbing at his face a little as if to make sure he was fully awake. 

“Ice. I put a plane down off the coast of Greenland because Hydra was trying to blow up the Eastern Seaboard.”

“But-”

“Azzano.” Steve blinked, and started to lose a little color as Bucky continued, his voice flat. “Zola’s experiment worked on me. He was trying to make more super soldiers.”

Steve went red with anger, then pale again. “Oh God, Bucky. Why did you do that? Why did you crash a damn plane?”

Unspoken between the two of them was the fact that if Bucky had been there when Steve came back, he probably could have stopped him before Hydra took over. But Bucky wasn’t ready to open that box of troubles just yet.

“I didn’t want New York to blow up.”

Steve almost laughed, then swayed a little. Bucky brought him to the nearest chair against the wall. “My head hurts so bad.”

“It was her, wasn’t it?” Bucky said, nodding towards where the Scarlet Witch had gone.

“No. I mean, yes, but…” Steve sighed, grimacing in pain. “Part of me always knew Hydra was wrong. That’s why they kept having to put me in cryo and keep at me with drugs and machines and hypnosis. Schmidt would always tell me he needed to save me for Hydra’s greatest threats, but it had to have been because they weren’t sure if they could keep me spouting the party line for very long. When Wanda was ready…” He looked up. “Bucky, they had her brother. She wasn’t allowed to see him. He’s her twin, they went through testing together, and she wasn’t allowed to see him and barely was allowed to talk to him. She had to keep me how they wanted me, or he would have been killed. I _knew_ that, Johann had said something about it, but I think they made me forget until now.”

Bucky let out a long breath. That bore out what they had observed, and Wanda definitely hadn’t been backwards about throwing over from Hydra the second she got a chance, but it was damn hard to hear. And it meant that underneath everything Hydra had done to him, the real Steve had been aware, thinking, and remembering.

“And I think she kept the normal part of me protected. That’s why it hurt so bad when she did what she did on the battlefield; she was ripping those fake memories out, but they’d had a long time to stick there.” Steve blinked, and shuddered. “Oh God, Bucky, what I’ve done…”

Bucky found a blanket in the Quinjet and wrapped it around Steve, ready to listen to everything Steve needed to say, for as long as he could talk.

\--

Steve laid down the tablet, looking drawn and wan even though he hadn’t exerted himself today. Bucky had managed to get him into a shower, new clothes, and a restless and nightmare-filled sleep before he’d been awake again, needing to do _something_. All he’d done today was dig through his own history as Captain Hydra, giving the Avengers what he’d given Hydra all those years ago. The Avengers would be fully prepared for every Hydra secret he could remember. Steve’s memory gave him a detailed record without having to dig through files. A lot of Hydra’s secrets were going to be exposed, and more importantly they would come from a trusted source. True head of Hydra or not, Schmidt didn’t inspire anything but fear. He’d needed Steve to gain the loyalty of the populace. 

Seventy-five years of cruelty. His face on countless instructional films, ads, billboards, and more, reinforcing Hydra’s message, Hydra’s mission. And now he could see what Schmidt had planned for him. At some point soon, he would have had Wanda snuff out the last of his reluctant and resistance to the “necessities” of Hydra’s total rule, and initiated him into the deepest of Hydra’s mysteries. Schmidt couldn’t live forever, and he’d meant to leave a perfect successor behind.

Steve had never been to those “sacred” places, but he knew where they were due to the security protocols. Each and every one could be dismantled, destroyed, or cut off. No matter what horrors Schmidt had in store, he couldn’t unleash them all. Steve sent the information to Tony’s computer, feeling blinded and betrayed. He hated this. Hated digging Hydra out of his soul, reconciling having had beer with Jack and Brock, tempering their excesses in the field, and now knowing he’d been traveling with his own death squad if Wanda’s brainwashing had failed. He’d killed so many people… Hundreds, thousands by his own hands, and even more by his actions. Most of them hadn’t been guilty of anything but opposing Hydra’s rule.

Beside him, Bucky had remained quiet, “reading a book” as Steve had typed and wrote out a long list of sins. “I’m not… I’m not who you remember,” Steve said abruptly. He’d just sent off another long list of dead, and felt nearly smothered by them. How could Bucky stand to be in the same building with him, let alone keep him company during this? “I’ve done terrible things.”

“Not your fault,” Bucky said, his voice low and fierce as he turned to look at him. 

“I… chose to do them. I picked the missions, the attacks, the targets…”

Bucky put his hands on Steve’s shoulders to make him turn towards him, his right hand hot as a branding iron. The touch was startling. When was the last time anyone had touched him other than acts of violence or mental violation, sparing the occasional dry handshake to show how polite Captain Hydra could be? He’d had no real affection, just expectations. Even his friendship with Wanda had been tainted with lies and fear. How had he not been able to see the deathly fear she had breathed with every breath? He owed her better. And Bucky… Steve’s body tingled with the familiar touch, so long absent he’d nearly forgotten. Or they’d made him forget.

“I’m gonna keep telling you it wasn’t your fault until you believe me, Steve.”

Steve laughed a little out of nerves, and put his hands on Bucky’s forearms, hot flesh and warm metal.

“I’ll keep trying…” was all he could promise.

“All I can ask you, punk.”

The familiar term ripped right through Steve’s defenses, and he felt his eyes get hot. It was too much, this kindness, after what he’d done. Bucky didn’t seem to care about the display of weakness, pulling Steve into an embrace that totally undid him. These were conscious tears, purging emotions he hadn’t known he’d repressed, spilling them on Bucky’s shoulders in damp saltwater. Bucky let Steve lean on him, let him soak up his strength. As Steve’s eyes finally grew sore and he came to an end of his tears, he could feel a little of the same salt dampness in his hair. Bucky’s eyes and face were just as wet as his. 

“You are a damn miracle,” Steve murmured.

“Just a lucky man,” Bucky said. He must have felt even more adrift than Steve, having woken up in Steve’s nightmare. But he felt lucky. They’d finally found each other.

\--

Bucky left Steve in a sleep of utter exhaustion, slipping out to find something hot to drink. He needed something to calm him down after the last day he’d had. He was beyond relieved to have Steve back and in something resembling his right mind, but Steve had a mountain of guilt to climb. Bucky needed him to know that he wouldn’t be alone on the trip, no matter what.

As he padded into the kitchen and selected a mug, he saw a slim form in one of the chairs, long dark hair trailing over the arm. Wanda Maximoff looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and pointed at an electric kettle on the counter. He found it still hot, poured a measure of water in the mug, and spooned in decaf coffee and creamer until the mug threatened to overflow.

“I am sorry,” Wanda whispered, as Bucky set down his spoon.

Bucky took two long swallows of his coffee, then walked around to sit in a chair facing her. She had her legs curled up underneath her, and looked younger than her eighteen years. She reminded him of his kid sister Becca as she brought her own mug up to her face, watching him warily over the rim.

“Natasha said you were caught in a cage like Steve was, a cage with invisible bars,” Bucky said.

She nodded warily. “I was brought to help him, but soon I realized I was asked to hold a tiger by the tail, while the tiger was blindfolded and chained.”

Bucky chuffed out a small laugh. “That about sums up the whole sorry situation.” He took another drink, feeling warmth suffuse him. “How’s your brother?”

“Pietro is well away from those thugs who were his teammates,” she said, glancing back towards what must have been her hallway, looking fiercely protective. Next to her, a decorative vase lifted into the air before she quelled it with a crimson glance. “Steve never forgot you. I could see it, but I couldn’t let him out before he had someone he cared about here to help him. Otherwise the knowledge would have… killed him.”

Bucky’s metal arm gave a twinge of pain from the bullet that had hit his hand instead of Steve’s head. He wouldn’t have been surprised if some early Hydra mind manipulator had added that in the brainwashing mix to make sure there wouldn’t be any evidence of what they’d done if everything went to hell.

“You did what you had to do. You kept everyone alive to fight another day as themselves,” Bucky said. He held out his mug towards her. “Fuck Hydra.”

That startled Wanda into a laugh, and she clinked her mug with his. “Fuck Hydra.”

\--

Two days later, the Avengers were sorting through the mountain of data both from Steve’s memories and also from the Hydra network codes which he’d given to Tony and Natasha. If there was anything there that was likely to be moved up because of Steve’s capture, they needed to figure it out, and fast.

“It looks like there was a lot of movement on the Tesseract project,” Tony was saying, pointing at some diagrams he had liberated. “I think they’re done playing with weapons, which I could have told them twenty years ago. This looks like… advanced physics, astrophysics… A bit outside of my area, but looks like these were in use down the hall, Selvig’s crew. They were the ones with direct Tesseract access.” Tony was shamelessly using Iron Man’s anonymity for as long as he could to keep his high-level Hydra access, and time at their labs was just one of the perks. 

“So we’re looking at cosmic-level stuff. Transdimensional,” Bruce said, drawing some arcs on the tablet as he examined Tony’s data.

Steve sat straighter, something clicking from their conversation. “Project Starfall. Jo- Schmidt said that was something he’d use in the event of some mass uprising. He said he’d give me a second army to lead. But then he got really coy about it. I think he didn’t want to raise the possibility of that too much in my mind.”

Tony was typing and swiping at his screen in a frenzy. “Getting a little help from my friends here… I like a good stroll through data as much as the next guy, but having a project name makes it so much easier… damn. Um, wait, yes, damn.”

“What?” Natasha demanded.

“Oh, nothing. Just that Red Skull’s been in contact with a guy that’ll give him an army from outer space.”

“This future is terrible. I demand a refund,” Bucky muttered.

“You and me both, Lefty,” Tony agreed, grinning slightly.

“How do we stop an army from outer space?” Clint asked. “Because I’m a great shot, but I’ve only got so many arrows.”

“The best way would be to shut the door,” Bruce said, nodding slowly. “If they’re talking transdimentional energy out of the Tesseract, then they’re talking long-distance instantaneous travel. We need to shut the door and throw away the key.”

Thor thumped the table with an enthusiasm that jostled everyone’s tablet and mug. “I told you of this twenty years ago!” he said, looking at his own tablet. “I am not conversant in using the Tesseract directly, but I know its nature.”

“And I believed you, and this time we actually get a chance to do it without getting several thousand people killed,” Natasha pointed out.

Thor sighed but didn’t argue the point.

“The Tesseract is the most guarded item in the entirety of Hydra,” Clint said. “I ran detail on it when they moved it once. Yikes.”

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then we need a distraction.”

“It’s going to have to be one hell of a distraction, Rogers,” Tony said, looking curious.

“How about a worldwide rebel uprising?”

Thor began to laugh, chuckling at first, then louder until the room rang with his mirth.

“By the All-Father, this will be the battle we always wished to have. _Now_ is the time to ask every hero who found their inspiration to stand and face the darkness.”

Steve nodded. “They never asked me to go up against them, but there were some rumors of other ‘renegade enhanced’ always going around.”

Bucky nodded, starting to smile. He’d only seen a few of these people at a distance, but he’d heard some really good stories. Clint tapped on his own tablet and handed it to Steve.

He listened with growing astonishment as Clint described a teen with spider powers who swung around from buildings downtown, a bulletproof man in Harlem, an uncannily-aware brawler with a devil theme in Hell’s Kitchen, a man with a glowing fist in Chinatown, and a super-strong woman uptown. While the Avengers had been dealing with Hydra experiments and soldiers, these Defenders had been combating the state-sanctioned mob bosses who kept the money flowing at the expense of misery and death. It shamed him that he hadn’t seen that, hadn’t known. Schmidt had been very good at keeping certain aspects of Hydra’s operations away from him, at least those parts which would have conflicted with his carefully-constructed memories about Hydra’s purpose. He wondered if in some earlier time he _had_ been told, and had rebelled, earning him another stint in cryosleep.

“And those are only some of the ones in New York. There are more, lots more, all around the world. If you can tell the people it’s time to rise up, then we have a chance. And one monster-sized distraction,” Clint said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

Steve smiled, a small but fierce thing.

\--

Steve stared at the shield on the table. Stripped of its Hydra paint job, it once again showed the white star and red and blue stripes he’d used in the service of his country. He touched it reverently, fingertips gliding over the smooth surface, then picked it up. The stiff straps were new, and fitted his arm easily.

He hefted it, and turned to Bucky with a smile on his face.

“I owe Tony.” 

His friend grinned. “I had to convince him not to add every bell and whistle he could think of. Just the recall casters, that’s it. He’s got a full new uniform to match. You’ll like it, it’s tasteful. I had to veto the one that looked like your old showgirl outfit.”

“I owe you, too.”

Bucky waved a hand. “I’ll collect later. Come on, let’s go train.”

Steve looked reluctant, and Bucky gestured at himself. “Punch me.” The last time they had fought Steve had been nearly a different person, one who was ready to fight to protect ideals he now loathed. He’d fought like it, too, hard and sharp, nearly lethal. Bucky didn’t want him to get spooked, not now. Not when Steve would likely be the target of every Hydra soldier the minute he showed his face again.

He blinked. “What?”

“Steve, I moved up a few weight classes since last time. I’ve been dogging you for over a year, and taking down every Hydra bozo I could get my mitts on. I held up against you, and would have won that fight if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

Steve snorted at that, and Bucky let it slide.

“I still don’t-”

“Hey, remember when I kneed you in the nuts?” Bucky said with an insouciant grin.

Steve smiled, and punched. Bucky dodged, spun, and returned one of his own. As they fought, Steve lost his unease at fighting Bucky. It was getting back into the groove they once had training with Dum-Dum at every opportunity. Except Steve no longer had to hold back. Bucky matched his speed and strength, and what advantages Steve might have from the new moves he’d learned over the years was negated from what Bucky had learned from the Avengers. He’d clearly not wasted a second of his time awake. Steve was taller and had better reach, but Bucky’s metal arm was exceptionally tough and not something you wanted to be hit with.

Neither of them was willing to give ground, and it was only when Steve managed to get Bucky pinned in a corner where he couldn’t bring his metal arm to bear that they found themselves in close stalemate. Sharing breaths in the same space, it inexplicably felt so much warmer than before. Steve froze, not wanting this to end, but not sure what to do now. He felt almost normal for the first time in an age. And somehow more than normal. More aware. More awake.

Bucky looked like he was about to pull back, unwilling to push in the face of Steve’s hesitation. Steve closed the gap between them instantly, knowing he didn’t want Bucky to go, their lips meeting with a faint static spark. Bucky gasped, and memory resurfaced in Steve, of huddling together in the dark on the way back from Azzano, sharing breaths, sharing warmth, lips kissing each other in a desperate, new addiction. The next day, they had said nothing, but every excuse they had thereafter, any reason they could be away from the others in the dark, they stole kisses, and more, from each other. It had felt grounding, needed. As vital for survival as bullets or bread. Steve had a lot of affection for Peggy, but nothing was going to separate him from Bucky, either. 

And he’d fallen before he’d gotten a chance to do anything about it. If he’d had a single thought about it in the intervening years, Hydra had repressed it ruthlessly.

Steve swallowed Bucky’s gasp and kissed him firmly, hands pulling him closer. Bucky folded into his embrace until they slowly separated, eyes fluttering open in both wonder and understanding.

“I did remember. It’s been a long time, but I remember now,” Steve whispered. Bucky smiled against his mouth, and drew him into another kiss.

He broke the kiss to stare at Steve in wonder. “Are you sure?”

“For once. For you.”

Bucky returned the kiss, savoring the intimacy. Steve was still trembling inside, and he thought Bucky could tell. But at least, right now, they could have this. A kiss. A promise that they weren’t entirely broken.

It would be a long time before Steve felt worthy to fulfill it, but by God he would try.

\--

Bucky was nearly vibrating with tension as he and Wanda stood in the studio of the main Hydra broadcast channel. The plan was in motion, with the rest of the Avengers ready to liberate the Tesseract when Steve made the call. Wanda’s powers had gotten them here, the technicians under her control for the moment, anyone not either tied up or locked up. Pietro circled the perimeter as their guard, and Bucky guarded Wanda as Steve stepped up to the microphone. From the back, the red, white, and blue shield gleamed as Steve leaned forward. His shoulders squared, and the “on air” light abruptly illuminated.

“People of the Hydra nations, this is your Captain. For seventy-five years I’ve been your symbol, your icon, your general, your voice of reason. But before I was made to be Captain Hydra, I was Captain America. I was raised in Brooklyn by immigrant parents and taught about the founding of the United States of America. I became Captain America because I didn’t like bullies, and I wanted to be able to protect people so they could live their lives in freedom and peace, free of persecution for their differences.”

He paused, taking a breath. “In February of 1945, I was injured, captured, and lied to. With drugs, machines, and mind-control techniques, the leader of Hydra caused me to think that what he believed was what I believed. He said he could show me how to save everyone. And I did something terrible; I turned on you, bullied all of you, with my strength and my words, all as a tool of Hydra. They promised an end to great wars, by assassination and tyrannical rule. They promised peace, by allowing no voices but theirs. They promised prosperity, by forcing everyone to work, whether they were able or suited or willing. They suppress every difference, allowing no visions, dreams, or freedom.”

A small wave of pride went through Bucky at Steve’s determination as he continued. “I’ve been living in that nightmare, thinking it was a dream, and I helped keep you all there. No more. I’m awake. Those who kept up the spirit of America and every pre-Hydra country they tried to destroy are there to help you. We’ve spent a long time with our hearts and minds locked up. The price of freedom is high, and I asked you not to pay it, to sacrifice choice for security that ate you alive. I asked you to pay in your individuality, differences, and hopes for the future. I was wrong. Help us bring back what we’ve lost. It won’t be as certain, but we will be better, truer to ourselves and everyone around us. Now, today, we are telling Hydra to move aside. The Avengers are here, and I am with them. Join us, and help end the nightmare.”

Bucky could see the toll this was taking on Steve. This had been his job for decades, moreso even than leading STRIKE teams. He had been Schmidt’s voice, the voice of Hydra. But now his words were different. He was fighting a lifetime of nightmares to find out what he truly had been and could be again. Bucky could see his old friend in Steve’s face, both the scrappy little runt and the tall, strong protector and defender who had worn his nation’s colors on his chest as a promise to uphold her best ideals. Now he was something of both, tempered with pain-born experience and maturity. Hydra had created their own worst nightmare, and he had just raised the world against them.

Steve stepped back from the microphone, and the “on air” light went dark. Pale-faced, Steve joined Bucky at the door, pausing to listen to his earpiece. They waited a few eternally long minutes, and then Tony’s voice crackled over channel.

“Holy hell, that’s like dropping a wasp’s nest into an anthill! We are go!”

Steve looked at Bucky, then tapped his earpiece for a private channel to Thor. He listened, nodded, and then looked at Bucky and Wanda. She nodded back.

“Let’s go.”

\--

As Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Pietro moved through the streets, they were dodging the chaos of a city divided. Bucky caught sight of the spider-kid swinging past once; another time he saw a group of people in rough uniforms with the Shield logo taking on a Hydra squad, and once two Hydra squads fighting against _each other._ It was encouraging, and also frightening, that some people would do whatever Steve asked, even if it went against everything they had ever been told to believe.

But there was only one architect of all of this. And he could not be allowed to escape. The small group fought close to Hydra Tower, where more of New York’s heroes were leading groups of Shield rebels or even groups of regular citizens in fighting back. Where the thickest concentration of Hydra soldiers were, they spied the lighting that marked Thor’s presence. From the bestial roars further down the block, some Hydra idiot had let one of their own enhanced experiments out in an attempt to fight the Avengers. It sounded like the Hulk was having a great time. Clint was on a perch above, Bucky knew, and Natasha was likely taking another group of Shield rebels under her direction while Tony kept anyone from trying to backstab the Hulk and causing an unwanted rampage.

With a shower of sparks, Thor flattened his current crop of foes and landed next to Bucky, pressing something into his metal hand.

“Be careful,” he said simply, and flung his hammer to hurl himself skyward again, seeking new targets. Bucky curled his fingers tightly around the brassy handle he’d been given.

With grim expressions, the four walked into Hydra Tower through a hole made by the Abomination, and began their assent.

\--

Inside Johann Schmidt’s office, the leader of Hydra was frantic. Steve missing, the Witch and her brother with him, the Tesseract installation attacked, that damned _speech_ where anyone could see… He glanced over at the map of the world, so proud with all its Hydra icons. Now useless, pointless. He needed to regroup, and-

Schmidt saw movement in his doorway and turned. He caught sight of Steve with Wanda at his side, his uniform clear in silhouette, and Schmidt’s expression briefly brightened. Then Steve stepped into the light. His uniform wasn’t black, but blue, and there were no spreading Hydra tentacles across his forehead or chest, but instead a white star in the center of his body, highlighted by red and white stripes. The shield that had long been another talisman of Hydra’s power had reverted to the red, white, and blue of its original coloring, a relic of another past. 

For the first time in a long time, Steve saw real fear in Johann’s eyes. Schmidt turned to Wanda and started to speak, only for color to drain from his face as Pietro loomed behind her. His color worsened even more when Bucky appeared on Steve’s left side.

“You!” he snarled, his voice venom and cracking ice. “You’ve ruined everything!”

Bucky held up the container the Avengers had worked so hard to extract from Hydra’s Project Starfall, a crystalline container with a glowing blue cube at its center.

“Guess I have,” he said proudly.

Schmidt could do nothing but stare at the heart of Hydra’s power, shaking with rage.

“Do not move your hands,” Wanda said, her voice deadly low and even. “Or you will die with your nightmares eating you alive.”

“So will you,” he snapped, glaring back at her.

“I’ll snap you in half if you try,” Pietro said. “I’ve taken out faster things than you.” 

Schmidt turned back to Steve, his voice suddenly much warmer. “Steven, warum? Was hast du, das Hydra dir nicht gegeben hat? Die Welt ist sicher, die Menschen sind sicher, dein Leben hat einen Sinn. Diese Menschen werden nur mehr Krieg entfachen und unzählige mehr werden sterben. Das ist der Grund, aus dem du dich mir angeschlossen hast: um die Kriege zu stoppen und so viele Leben zu retten wie wir konnten. Nie wieder Krieg, Steven. Ich wurde dem gerecht, selbst meine Feinde würden das zugeben. Und ich bin nicht dein Feind, Steven. Für siebzig lange Jahre war ich dein Freund. Wer sind diese Neuankömmlinge? Warum haben sie dich von deinem Weg abgebracht? Du weisst was richtig ist, was Recht ist, was die meisten Leben retten wird.“ _“Steven, why? What have you had that Hydra has not given you? The world is safe, the people are safe, you have a purpose. These people only stir up more war where countless more will die. That is why you joined with me in the first place, to stop the wars and save as many lives as we could. No more wars, Steven. I have lived up to that, even my enemies would say so. And I am not your enemy, Steven. For seventy years, I have been your friend. Who are these newcomers? Why did they sway you from your purpose? You know what is right, what is just, what will save the most lives.”_

“Mein Verstand ist der Meine. Ich bin nicht mehr deine Marionette,” Steve said, his voice deadly. _“My mind is my own. I am no longer your puppet,” Steve said, his voice deadly._

Schmidt snarled and raised his hand. Wanda flung out her power, but it sprayed around Schmidt instead of hitting him, a glitter of energy now apparently protecting him. He always had chosen the best experimental projects for himself, and Steve wasn’t surprised at the unexpected development. With a flick of his hand, the four surrounded Schmidt. The Tower rocked beneath them as something exploded one floor up. Debris rained down, bouncing off of Schmidt’s shield and making the others duck, but no one moved far. They’d planned this carefully, not wanting some doomsday weapon triggered at the last moment. None of the Avengers had denied them the chance to destroy Red Skull first.

“Steven, mein Freund,”Schmidt said, his inflection just like the countless other times they’d met, talked, discussed things over beer or whiskey, even laughing at the same things. _“Steven, my friend.”_ Schmidt had been the single constant in his life for the past seventy-five years, the one friend who’d remained. A friend who’d tried to destroy Steve’s mind and personality, who’d warped Steve’s perception and priorities, who’d turned him into a weapon to poison people’s hearts and minds. Steve had killed thousands for Johann with his hands, and millions with his words. Bucky had lost his world and best friend twice over. Wanda and Pietro had lost their innocence, their sibling bond turned into a chain and goad to force them into committing atrocities. Yet all of them had found ways to rebel.

“Nein, Johann,” Steve said, his voice very soft. “Ich war niemals dein Freund.” _“No, Johann,” Steve said, his voice very soft. “I was never your friend.”_

He flung his shield right at him. Schmidt looked incredulous before the energy shield flashed, disrupting the attack. Or rather, the distraction. Pietro sped to where the shield ricocheted and flung the shield again, then back to Steve, Wanda joining in to blast Schmidt, the energy of the shield becoming blindingly bright. Schmidt was beset on all sides, no longer speaking, concentrating on survival. It was only when the light grew thin again that Steve spoke once more.

“Bucky!”

Schmidt turned to see Bucky carrying the naked Tesseract in his shining metal hand. That same cube had been responsible for Steve’s fall from the train, Bucky losing a limb, for Hydra’s rise and Wanda and Pietro’s painfully-gained powers. Schmidt started to snarl in anger, but Bucky didn’t let him. He hurled the cube at him, the glowing thing breaching the shield. Schmidt caught it out of purest reflex, staring at it in awe and satisfaction. That rapidly turned to horror as his hand, then arms began to dissolve into motes of shadow and light, then get pulled into it. Schmidt screamed in fear as every part of him turned into motes and nothingness. Then the cube dropped on the floor, burning through the carpet and wood and concrete until it fell through.

Wanda spat on the spot where Schmidt had been, Pietro echoing the gesture. Steve felt shocked when he realized he had tears in his eyes that were blurring his vision.

“He’s gone,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“I’m not going after that thing,” Bucky declared, looking into the deep hole where the Tesseract had fallen through. “If it ends up in the basement, Thor can have it back.”

Steve couldn’t even call up a ghost of a smile, he was shaking so badly.

“He’s gone,” he repeated, trying to make it real.

Bucky crossed to Steve and pulled him into his embrace. “For good. It’s us now. It’s us.”

Wanda tugged her brother out of the room and went to find where the explosion had happened upstairs. Sitting on a pile of rubble in front of a new entrance to the building, atop a very unconscious fellow that looked like a giant with far too many horns, were a barely-clad Bruce and a slightly-dented Tony.

“Did we win?” Tony asked.

Wanda gestured to the crack in the floor where you could see into the office below. Tony and Bruce leaned over to take a look at Steve kissing Bucky with tender reverence.

“We did,” Bruce said sagely, and passed out. Tony sighed. 

“We old folks are tired. If you two young Avengers aren’t too exhausted, I think there are some former co-workers of yours that still need their asses kicked. I’ll go break up the nonagenarians so they can help.” Wanda gave him a savage glance and headed for the breached wall, Pietro zooming downstairs in an instant as Wanda used her powers to lift herself down.

Tony stood and made his way downstairs with all the silence and grace a man in a one-ton suit of battle-damaged power armor could manage. Steve and Bucky met him at the doorway to the office, their hands joined together. Tony flicked his eyes at that, and made shooing motions at them.

“Go be Avengers, you crazy kids! We’ll be here when you two get back.”

Looking like they’d just been given their worlds back, Steve and Bucky left Hydra Tower, ready to make sure the new world would be safe in the hands of its heroes.


End file.
